


Tempered

by marimoes



Category: One Piece
Genre: Biting, Canon Universe, M/M, Mild Blood, One Night Stands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-09 03:02:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20987759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marimoes/pseuds/marimoes
Summary: Where others love the thrill of the chase, Law finds himself wanting something similar, but not quite that. He wants to play with his choice; needs to determine whether they’re worth his time and energy.The difference being they have to win a chess match in a single move. A mental game Law keeps a running tally for, each and every time he runs across a prospect.Drake, for his move, knocked over the table.





	Tempered

Warm, quick huffs come from Law’s mouth against his will. Pushed across his tongue with a chest begging for more air. 

How he’d love to keep them held within his teeth; a locked gate to conceal just how bad Drake is getting to him. The small space between their faces is hot beyond compare, making it harder to breathe. 

Each rock of Drake’s hips lifting him up into the headboard, causing it to slam over and over in a steady rhythm. Dull pain thudding along with each knock. The _click, click, clicking_ of pictures hung with haphazard care over the end tables shake and threaten to fall with each push. 

God, Law wishes they had just snuck aboard the Tang instead. 

But _no,_ they didn’t have time. They had to do it _now_, and that meant here, back in an abandoned home amidst the edge of the city. 

He had teased Drake as he lead him inside, but the man’s eyes focused forward like a magnet, pulled without any waver in his step toward his destination until he could lock into place. The worn door had creaked beneath his heavy grip as he ripped it from its hinges. 

A show of power Law wasn’t unaccustomed to, but nevertheless, he can’t deny it got him hard.

Drake had that effect on him, annoyingly so, Law hates to admit. Watching the redhead in action always stirred him in a way that the others in their group didn’t seem to have. 

Kidd with his power was strong, but something in the edge of his vision always left him wondering more. Made him want to dig deeper before he would consider getting into bed with a man who might be fully made of metal. 

Hawkins, and his cards, and hair, and well, everything. The collar. The crew. Something about the man struck Law odd and while the conquest was questionable, it wasn’t enough. 

Not like when Drake pinned him against the bar the night before. 

The disagreement light, but the alcohol heavy in his system. Drake’s eyes slitting into those of his zoan form and Law would be remiss to say he didn’t love them. That emerald green with darkness held behind. 

His hold strong and unwavering even after knowing what Law is capable of; Law loved it. 

Where others love the thrill of the chase, Law finds himself wanting something similar, but not quite that. He wants to play with his choice; needs to determine whether they’re worth his time and energy. 

The difference being they have to win a chess match in a single move. A mental game Law keeps a running tally for, each and every time he runs across a prospect. 

Drake, for his move, knocked over the table. 

Any thoughts slip quickly from Law’s mind like snow off a roof the second Drake’s teeth pierce his collar. Law can’t find the breath to gasp—no—because he moans. One of a lower tenor that’s foreign even to his own ears. 

A moan that makes heat sear up the back of his neck, making the wound feel like fire. Quickly extinguished by a languid sweep of Drake’s tongue across the mark. 

His mouth still so impossibly warm against Law’s blazing skin and it leaves him to wonder if he’ll burn alive before he comes. 

Drake places a hard kiss against the wound and a laugh vibrates on his lips. Low and throaty, a chuckle that says more than Law is willing to take. His control has been gone for minutes now, drowned in the sweat and sighs of the man inside of him. 

“You ca-ah-nivorous, Drake-y-ah?” Law pants out, smirk returning to his face. 

The game that Drake thought was over is far from over, and Law has placed a pawn into position. Eagerly waiting for the strike that he knows will come, reading an attack in the wings out of Drake’s focus. 

Drake pants, shifting upward to press Law harder against the headboard causing him to groan. His wrists bending across the top, held within just one of Drake’s, and still, Law smiles. 

“Want me to eat you alive, Trafalgar?” Drake nearly growls, eyes again that wild green Law remembers so clearly, “Tempted?” 

Drake moves closer, his teeth sharpening in an instant, with a near gleam hanging on them in the low light. Law doesn’t answer, merely lets his tongue dance across his lower lip. A daunting invitation for Drake to continue forward in this new game of chicken. 

Law is no stranger to pain and even with his hands held, he knows he can conjure Room should it get to that point. For now—they play this new game. 

Letting his head fall to the side, Law beckons him; an open invitation for the world’s most dangerous meal. 

“Don’t ask for something you can’t handle.” Drake warns rocking forward harder to pull another grunt from Law’s chest. 

“You going ea-a-sy on me? Never took you for someon-ahn that backs down.” Each thrust shaking Law’s voice more, driving him closer to that inevitable edge they’re careening towards. 

Drake’s breath is shuttering, an uneven hitch each time he pushes into Law. Tugging and pulling him upwards each time, pushing his hips until Law’s legs wrap around his waist without struggle. 

Restraining hand releasing its grip, Law’s hands fall against either side of Drake’s shoulders. The heat from his skin hotter than Law anticipated and sweat is nearly non-existent. Something that would hold Law’s attention longer if not, again, for pain. 

This time he cries out loud. A wail of a moan warbling from his throat while Drake sinks further into him. 

Heartbeat in his ears, Law’s head swims. _Thud, thud, thud, _loud and undeterred beneath his skin, his blood screams. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes and where words want to form in Law’s mouth they don’t come. 

Instead, he laughs. 

Drake jerks in surprise, teeth pulling away, a slow unwinding of emotion while he falls back. He licks the wound again, this time faster and Law can feel it. The increase of pulse within Drake. 

_I won._

“I never ta-took you for that, I’m impressed.” Law pants out and Drake rubs a fist against his mouth. 

Blood smears against it in a streak; a singular stroke of an unfinished painting.

“You’re really pissing me off Trafalgar. Didn’t think you’d be an easy fuck, but I’d watch yourself.” Drake mutters against Law’s bleeding neck.

“You keep saying that. All bark and no bi-” Law’s words die in a croak as Drake’s teeth sink back in, “Motherfu-ucker that’s a weak move.” 

Humming a laugh against his reddened skin, Drake moves closer, lips sucking against the skin as he rocks faster, and Law’s fingers dig into his shoulders. A scramble to grab hold, dragging hard red lines into his skin. 

It comes, sweeping like a breeze through a forgotten window left open at night, a cold chill down his back. A cold sweat breaks across Law’s neck, followed just as fast by the fire of air hitting his open wound. Drake kisses; hot and open mouthed against Law’s throat. 

Each one climbing closer: his neck, his jaw, his cheek, his mouth. 

That sweet copper that bleeds into Law’s mouth when Drake captures his lips is the thing, he thinks, hell is. A taunt of pain and pleasure all while pushing closer to falling into an eternal pit into the flaming pit below. 

So close. 

So-

“_Goddamnit._” Law gasps at his release, quick and hot between their chests, and feels Drake follow a beat behind. 

Drake’s lips stained a dark red of Law’s own personal collection, a taste settling metallic and heavy on his tongue. He is no stranger to blood, and nothing fazes him anymore, not after everything he’s been through. 

The heads he’s taken. 

The hearts. 

“I thought you’d have a better temper than that, Drake-ya.” Law sighs dropping his head against the wood behind him. 

Drake blows out a huff pulling out of Law, rolling his neck and letting his fingers trace the marks that were made. Looking ahead, he refocuses on a worn Law against the dark, broken, headboard and can’t help but smile.

It’s not often that someone can go hit for hit with him, on the field or in the bedroom; it’s impressive. 

“Don’t play stupid, Trafalgar.” Drake tuts lifting off the edge to stand, bare against the quickly dimming light of the room. Law blinks, rolling his head and refocusing his eyes against the silhouette, trying with all his will to concentrate, “You knew what you were doing, it’s why I brought you here. You can handle it.” 

Law hums an agreement and as he tries to move his body screams. A loud demand to stay put and for once he listens. Sitting still, dirty and panting against the bed, he instead slides downward to settle onto his back. 

“You gonna stay like that? I knew you were fucked up, but I didn’t think you were gross.” Drake remarks casting a quick look towards the creaking of the bed, “If you think I’m going to carry you-”

Room swallows them in an instant, spurred from Law’s hand like a firework set off too close to the crowd. It’s buzz a feeling Drake only associates with battle and he can feel his body tense against it in instinct. Before Drake can speak, Law smiles. 

“Shambles.” 

  


**Author's Note:**

> I'm just out here, feeding myself for drakelaw content, don't mind me. 
> 
> Tumblr: @noswordstyle  
Twitter: @__moes__


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